


Tête à Tête

by anticute



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24973264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anticute/pseuds/anticute
Summary: Where anticute shoves all the drabbles and random dialogue pieces that don't get sent to the Land of Misfit Words. Tony/Pepper, others. Setting: PreIM, IM1-IM3.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Earlyfic. PreIM. Tony/Pepper. He mentions her phone like how one compliments a new hairstyle.

"You've got a new phone. It's decent."

Pepper looks for a moment at the phone on the table, then says easily, "Yes, I do. I like how it works. It's a little on the older scale of phones out there right now, but still very convenient."

He notices things that are not typical for one to notice in casual conversation; he mentions her phone like how one compliments a new hairstyle.

"So you got a new phone," he repeats.

"Yes, and...?"

"What happened to your old one."

"The other one was...compromised."

"How's that?" He's fiddling with the wiring of the remote, God knows why.

"Just was," she says with a dismissive shrug, tucks a stray hair behind her ear.

Tony blinks as he looks up from the mess on the coffee table and raises an eyebrow at her.

She sighs, relents, "Water."

"One question."

She snorts at that.

"One or two-?"

"Neither."

She inwardly curses herself for her prompt answer; she was too focused on catching what he was going to ask, to catch _herself_ from her answer.

"-piece. How'd you know what I was going to ask."

Then he fumbles, the remote clatters onto the glass surface as he hoarsely says, " _Waitwhat?_ "

"Two years of working here, Tony," she is choosing to ignore his line of thinking, "Not that one needs two years to know _you."_

"It's a valid question," he presses on insistently, "this one is too. What does 'neither' mean?"

"This," she says primly, straightening her posture as he just stares at her, "is not a professional conversation."

"Says the one who said _neither._ You went skinny dipping? _Potts._ At least try to lie about having a one-piece on. Have some mercy."

"I didn't-" She splutters for a few seconds and then takes a shaky breath to compose herself, "I didn't go swimming. That's not how it happened."

"So?"

"I...," she bites her bottom lip anxiously, piecing together the best arrangement of words in her head, "I forgot it."

"This is better suspense than Rhodey's last weekend movie pick, Pepper."

She sighs, "I forgot my phone in my laundry and...accidentally washed it."

"How- What?"

She's immediately defensive, "It happens, okay? And I did everything I could, the rice, the silica gel, but it didn't _work._ And besides, I am certainly not the first, or the last, person to accidentally wash my phone. I'm sure someone right now is making the same very mistake. It could be Rhodey. O-or Happy."

She winces at her decision of using their mutual friends as a way to ridiculously emphasize her point.

"But that sort of thing happens to people? Seriously?"

"Yes. It is a common, but unfortunate, occurrence."

"Huh." Tony finishes up with the remote and sits there, cross-legged on the floor. He absently tosses the remote back and forth, from palm to palm, as he muses on this fact and various other thoughts not pertinent to the conversation.

"You wouldn't know, of course. You don't do your laundry."

He just nods, thoughtful, then reaches over the table to grab her phone, ignoring her squeak of protest. He doesn't crack it open (or at least, not yet, and Pepper frets), but just inspects the outside of it, turning it over in his hand with a few rotations.

"I'd probably need to make a new phone every week," he replies. His index finger runs over the rectangular lines of her phone, again and again, brow furrowed as he makes calculations of some kind.

"Your laundry is not done every week. Unless you'd like to change that. I can notify the staff."

He shrugs, "Sureyeah. Mom used to schedule it so laundry was done every three weeks. Dad's clothes, every week, because of how dirty he'd get when he worked."

She glances at his currently stained tank, but only says, "That's the schedule right now."

"Keep it."

The conversation stops for a while; she types; he sets down her phone eventually and lays back, pillowing his head with folded palms.

"You should have brought it to me. I would have done something."

"Thank you, but no. It's enough that I already have you fix my car."

"Rhodey never complains. He never thanks me either, the bastard. But he never complains. Happy's...probably the happiest when I do anything to his car. Obie's the grumpiest."

"I'm not complaining. I'm very thankful," she says politely, "very thankful that you take time out of your day to fix things, instead of doing actual work."

"You're welcome."

She rolls her eyes, "I'm simply saying that making you my repairman for things is...strange. Financially, it may benefit me, but it..." She trails off.

"If you ask me over to fix your sink, I promise to wear low jeans and-"

"No," Pepper stops him hastily, "and besides, I can fix my own sink."

"Of course you can."

Then a moment.

"Even in my _best_ low jeans?"


	2. allover comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PreIM1. Pepper's shoes catch Tony's particular attention.

"Whoa."

"...What is it now?"

"You."

Pepper sighs. He's persistent, she'll admit. Two weeks and a half into her employment and he is still resisting her resistance to him.

"Mr. Stark," she looks up, expecting his grinning at her as a prelude to his attempts to distract them both from the task at hand. Instead, she finds that he's staring at her legs, which is something she isn't surprised by as he is wont to look at her legs, but it's more often if she's in a skirt. As it is, she's wearing a pair of sleek black pants.

" _Mr. Stark_."

"Yeah?"

"Would you kindly direct your attention to page fifteen?"

"Yeah, sure."

She needs a new tactic, seeing as how everything else that she usually employs to reject unwanted advances from others, is not working. Plainly addressing his inappropriateness proves to be sorely ineffective.

JARVIS has taken quite the liking to her and has managed to convince Tony she really does mean _exactly_ what she says: that sincerely and truly, she is not interested. As their first encounter has proven, Miss Potts is a terrible liar and that's the basis of why he hired her. So, no - "the theory that Ms. Potts is playing-hard-to-get is out of the question, sir."

Despite Tony understanding such, he does not relent. She's rather awkward, yes, but he's not exactly doing anything too untoward that actually makes her viscerally uncomfortable, as opposed to a few past employers that _have._ Job hunting is terrible for many reasons - in particular, she has to explain why she has quit so many jobs (as well as explain _why_ she had to take up so many jobs in the first place). While she threatens Mr. Stark is on the border of sexual harassment, her past employers - namely of the modelling sort - take the cake in actual harassment. So, no. Mr. Stark is being inappropriate, but...appropriately inappropriate. (Goodness, that doesn't even make sense.)

Now, she's regarding these particular actions towards her as just part of the job - like getting him coffee, or helping to redirect poor Butterfingers away from a corner that has confused her system and effectively trapped her.

And yes, Butterfingers is a her, Tony insists. She was the first addition to Mr. Stark's robot family - because despite what he may say, he is quite endeared to his creations. She is a very confused, clumsy thing. She gets stuck in places regularly and Pepper finds herself helping Butterfingers out of corners. Sometimes, she finds the poor girl-thing-mecha wandering in a sort of circle, or JARVIS notifies her of the trouble. The latter situation makes her think fondly of JARVIS as a sort of big brother to his siblings.

(Butterfingers' name was initially Buttercup, but it didn't work out. For obvious reasons. Have you _seen_ Butterfingers?)

" _Mr. Stark._ "

He's looking at her legs - or her pants, really - again. She's miffed. Again. It's like this. A daily rinse and repeat of his harmless flirting and her exasperation.

"Why are you wearing those granny shoes?"

She blinks at him.

"What?"

She looks down at the objects of their...conversation, wiggling her toes inside the shoes unconsciously. Yes, they're not her standard heels and yes, they are a bit clunky with the wedges. But she likes them and they're only temporary. She's got a foot problem to deal with - a consequence of wearing heels so constantly. Orthopedic shoes are the remedy for the time being.

To term them as "granny shoes" are a bit...extreme, though. Or perhaps she's just a little defensive over her shoes... She takes pride in her taste of shoes.

But. Whatever her shoes may be called is not important here, nor should her shoes be receiving so much attention when there is much work to attend to.

"Can we please return to the business at hand? You have a-"

"Stand up."

She sighs and sets aside her papers. Tucking a hair behind her ear, she similarly does so with her feet; she shifts them inwardly towards the couch, tries to hide them behind the table in front of her, so his gaze is interrupted. It's not. He just merely follows the movement intently.

She starts calmly, "My shoes-"

"Are granny looking."

"They're just shoes."

"Fuck no. They're more than that. They're not _your_ shoes."

"I think my purchase makes them mine, Mr. Stark. If you would like, I have the receipt."

She doesn't actually have the receipt anymore, but she can't keep saying "What?" because it's not going to move along this conversation and end in him complying to work. She knows how to work (with) Mr. Stark by now. Sort of. She's still figuring it out - rather rapidly, but surely. Because that's how it is with Tony Stark - never a chance to stop and smell the roses. It's always "go, go, go."

"JARVIS," Tony orders, assuming the appropriate authoritative tone, as if to make a show that his request is of great import, "Miss Potts' heels. What are they called?"

"Orthopedic heels, sir," JARVIS tunes helpfully, "With leather linings, made breathable for allover comfort. Rubber outsole provides traction and durability. 3/8 heel."

"Potts. Stand up. Or you're fired."

Pepper raises an eyebrow before relenting, standing up very slowly.

"Start moving around. Don't care where. Feel free. Pretend I'm not even here. In fact, I encourage you t-"

" _Tony_."

(She's trying to get into the habit of calling him by first name, per his request. She's learned if he calls her Potts, he's giving her the opportunity to call him Tony.)

"Walk. Just a little, Miss Potts. I deserve a break. You deserve a break. We deserve a break."

She sighs and she's not sure why she even agrees - God knows she most adamantly refuses to be anyone's monkey - but she does walk around. Silence pervades, other than the trickling sound of the waterfall in the living room and her shoes against the floor.

"Why didn't I notice this before?" He muses, after a moment of observing her walk. She feels ridiculous. She's being paid to just _walk_.

"Your heels - and _damn,_ your heels - make this clicking noise that I've become accustomed to. And then _that...those,"_ he gestures with his hand to her shoes, as if offended by them, "those don't make that click. How did I not notice, all day? This morning?"

Pepper informs, "You had a hangover today and requested my shoes off when I entered."

Well, no. It was JARVIS who had requested it, but she assumed the order had to have been made by him.

"I was an idiot then. I like that clicking noise. It's nice. No. Keep walking. Why did you stop walking. Keep walking. Or you're fired."

She's getting quite tired of that threat. She's half certain he won't act on it, and the other half is certain he will. It has only been two weeks and a half, and while she knows she's made an impression on him, she's wary and entirely aware of his whims and attention span. Even if JARVIS seems to be on her side, she doesn't think an AI can disobey his master once his master makes a decision.

(She can protest if he does fire her, but then maybe...maybe if he does fire her, it gives her the chance - that she should just get out. Now.)

"Only you, Miss Potts." He says after another moment, then nods at the couch so that she can return to it.

She does so, noting how he is still staring at her shoes.

"Only me what?"

"Only you could make granny shoes hot."

Does he expect her to throw herself at him for that statement? Because she's not going to. He must be getting desperate. 

"I mean, sure. They're a little chunky looking. But they're still pretty sexy. And you're comfortable - that's what they're for, JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir. For 'allover comfort.'"

"Yeah. So. Sexy and comfortable. A damn good combination, Miss Potts."

He looks up at her then, finally, and grins, "Keep up the good work."

And she half wonders if he's paying her to just wear shoes.


End file.
